We weren’t the best of mates. More often than not, we would quarrel over the slightest thing. Whether it was my fault or his is immaterial. In our heart of hearts we loved each other, that is why when mum died I went to live with him so that he wouldn’t be alone.

I know he missed mum like hell but I guess I was a bit of a scapegoat to vent his anger on when his loss was unbearable. I guess it wasn’t really his fault that I would end up in tears most of the time because he never seemed to have a word of praise for all I did for him – cooking, cleaning, washing his clothes, etc. Dad was dad and I never could forget how he worked so hard for us when my sister and I were young. I could never forget how he slaved over his job just to send us to private schools, what seems now aeons ago.

He wasn’t ill – that’s was why it was such a great shock to find him dead in his bed on 11 August. If someone were to ask me what I remembered my dad for most I would say his love for the worker, the common worker and how he loved the Malta Labour Party and his own family. He was a good man and maybe we were so similar in our characters that familiarity bred certain contempt, although I know that “contempt” is too strong a word for our relationship. Let’s just say that however much you love a person, sometimes a difficult character can be very hard to understand although that doesn’t mean that they should be loved any less.

Goodbye dad. You were part of my life for 50 years and I will miss you. Please say “Hi” to mum for me when you reach heaven. I love you.

Valerie Borg

Valletta